Grim Farewells
by Ponine099
Summary: '"Well, where are my manners?" And he stepped aside from the doorframe, to let him in.' Or in which Padfoot says farewell.


**Quarter Finals QLF  
**Title: Grim Farewells

Team: Wasps

Position: Beater one

Prompt: Use the Beater 2 prompt for their favourite round this season (8, 'You Can't Predict It All.' Six of Swords, upright: Transition, Leaving Behind, Moving On.)

**Optional prompts:**

1\. (word) Mundane

7\. (location) Library

13\. (object) Postcard

_Thanks to my teammates, for beta'ing._

* * *

Mundane. That was the word. And an adjective that had never -at least until now- applied to Sirius Black.

Don't get him wrong, James Potter would've never described his best friend as lofty or stuck-up, unless it was to wind him up.

Yet Sirius had always had an aristocratic air about him. It wasn't intentional. In fact, Sirius hated it so much that whenever a poor soul made the mistake of commenting on his slightly posh accent for example, they would get a special treatment of Bat-Bogey hex.

But now? His friend looked nothing short of mundane.

Sirius' usually well-cared appearance was all wrong. He wore mismatched clothes, -something he wouldn't be caught dead in- his hair looked messy, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Something was up.

James slid his glasses farther up his nose, as to assure himself that what he was seeing was real. "Pads?"

Sirius didn't make a sound.

"How did you… where are your parents? I thought you'd said they'd never let you come here after…"

James glanced around the street, half expecting Walburga Black to walk out of the shadows like a cartoon villain. When nothing happened, his initial shock turned into wariness.

"What's going on, Sirius?"

A whimper escaped Sirius' lips. "Prongs, I-"

James felt like he was missing out on something obvious. He was about to ask another stupid question, when it dawned on him.

Why else would his sixteen-year-old friend stand here in the middle of a chilly December night? He'd talked about doing it ever since they'd met. Had he really been serious?

Because if he had… Merlin, this was messed up _bad_.

He probably would have stood there all night gaping like an idiot if another wave of realization hadn't hit him: Sirius had come _here. _He needed a home, and he'd come _here. _

A million thoughts bubbled inside his mind, but he pushed them aside. There would be a time to wonder. For now...

"Well, where are my manners?" And he stepped aside from the doorframe, to let him in.

* * *

The letter arrived a few days later, about a fortnight away from Christmas.

They were eating breakfast when the owl, a handsome black bird, started pecking on the misty window. Sirius went ashen at the mere sight of it, which left no clue as to the sender.

Fortunately, James' parents were too busy chatting animatedly over the morning Prophet to notice, which left James with a window of a few seconds to act. He figured this should be as quick and clean as possible for Sirius. He deserved that.

After sending the owl off into the snowy sky, he signaled Sirius to follow him, making up a feeble excuse about not being hungry anymore as he went. The adults were sensible enough not to question the two boys any further.

When they were out of earshot, James examined the envelope for the first time. It bore a coat of arms in the wax seal, with a motto surrounding it. _Toujours pur_, it read.

"What's with all the theatrics?" He laughed half-heartedly, trying to lighten the mood.

Sirius didn't smile. "Just… open it."

"Are you sure? We could, you know, throw it into the fire."

"No. I have to read it."

James nodded somberly. "Your call, mate."

He broke the seal.

* * *

Sirius had simply laughed. It had been quite scary, actually.

Sure, James had heard about people acting strangely during grief, but laughing? Not the reaction he'd expect of someone who'd just been disowned.

To top it all off, he would start laughing again whenever the situation was mentioned. It made it so much more difficult to approach him about it; something James had tried -and failed- to do ever since he'd read the letter.

In fact, they'd rarely talked _at all. _Sirius locked himself in the library most of the day, doing Merlin knew what, and the only time he spent with the Potters was during meals, which had become thirty minutes of uncomfortable silence.

James' mum had insisted that Sirius simply needed some time. That this must be very rough for him.

But it killed James to sit around, not being able to do anything to make his best friend feel better.

So he wrote to Moony, asking for help.

_I'll write to him, _Remus answered, _but I don't expect it'll help much. _

_Sirius always bottles up his emotions, but this must have driven him off the edge. _

_We can just be there for him when he's ready. Trust me, I've been there. _

James tore up the letter in frustration after reading it. Someone else who wanted him to sit tightly like a good boy.

He decided to make an intervention of his own, so he cornered Sirius when he was leaving the library for the night.

"You had a good time? You know, with the stuffy books and all."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, good time," Sirius answered dreamily. Then he clicked his tongue impatiently, as if to make it clear that he _really_ didn't want to have this conversation.

James continued nevertheless. "Hey, listen, I've been thinking... I know we said we would spend Christmas over at Wormtail's, but maybe we should stay here. We'd have a great time, and it'd be the perfect way to welcome you to the Potters' officially."

Now, if that wasn't a blunt message, he didn't know what was.

Sirius chuckled. "Right. Thanks, Prongs. Maybe I should change my surname too now. My dear mother would die of happiness as a bonus."

James sighed in defeat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm sure you didn't," Sirius said blankly. Then he walked past James, bumping his shoulder.

"Pads…" James called sadly, without turning around. Sirius' footsteps stopped. He was listening. "I love you, mate. You can count on that, if not on anything else. You're my brother."

Sirius didn't answer. But James could have sworn he heard a quiet sob.

* * *

December days flew away scarily fast.

Before James knew it, the days grew colder and merrier.

Sirius was speaking with him again, which, really, was enough to put him in a good mood, and his parents had started cooking hot, delicious meals. They loved cooking during the holiday season.

It was nice, eating homemade dishes and getting asked what he wanted for dinner. But it was also a bit embarrassing having them fuss over Sirius about it. They would ask whether-he-would-prefer-to-eat-now-or-later-and-did-he-have-any-preference-over-dessert-because-pumpkin-pie-was-Jamie's-favourite-but-they-could-prepare-something-else-if-he-liked.

Then again, how could he feel mortified when Padfoot practically _glowed _at all those suggestions? _Yes, Mrs. Potter, that's quite enough serving… No, I'm sure. I really don't want to get indigestion. _Then he would smile so brightly one could almost believe that the offer of another portion meant all the good-will in the world.

Maybe it did to some people.

The real nightmare was when Sirius was feeling helpful, and tried to work in the kitchen. You don't know pain if you haven't had the pleasure of teaching Sirius _I haven't done a piece of housework or a simple manual task in my life_ Black how to peel a potato without magic.

After dinner, the two of them would play exploding snap. They'd tried Quidditch, but James broom had started freezing after ten minutes.

When the day before Christmas finally arrived, the other two Marauders made their appearance at the Potters', seeing as they wouldn't be spending the next day together after all.

Remus gave Sirius an extra long hug as a greeting, but apart from that, neither him nor Peter mentioned the disowning, to James' relief.

In the afternoon, the four of them walked around the snowy town, trip that came in handy for James to buy a bunch of tacky Christmas postcards.

He was definitely sending one to the Black Manor, attached to a picture of the Marauders sending Christmas smooches.


End file.
